Drip.
Pause.
Drip.
Pause.
Dripdripdripdrip--
"Would you mind," A reedy, immensely British voice pronounced slowly and clearly, each syllable holding as much hate as it could possibly hold, "If you stop your infernal, attention-seeking, irritating dripping?"
Dr-
The dripping stopped immediately, its half-hearted attempt to try and fight against the librarian of the Dreaming failing quite woefully. The drop of water hung frozen in the air, suspended there for all time... Or until it started up again. Lucien's baleful glare shifted away from the frozen water droplet, as it landed on Mervyn Pumpkin Head, who was currently staring at Lucien in slight awe.
"I never knew y'could do that! Y', LOOSH! A prissy, book-pushin' libra-"
Mervyn shutted up when Lucien's baleful glare intensified, if possible. Matthew cawed loudly, which could pass for a cackle of amusement, as it shook itself furiously. Droplets detached themselves from Matthew's shiny black feathers and much of them landed on the already irritated librarian. As Lucien growled in anger, an unusual amount of unrestrained emotion for Lucien, Cain and Abel floated pass them in a tub, Cain practically ready to rip Abel's head off and as a result, piss Lucien off more.
If there was one thing Lucien could not, never everabide, it was those bloody floods that started gushing in after Lord Morpheus' disappearance. He had a half-formed plan that was powered mostly by pure anger to complain to the Dream Lord when he returned, which proved how irritated he was. Normally, Lucien would subtly suggest something, and Lord Morpheus was no fool. However, Lucien planned this time to storm up to the throne room and rant about the floods when the Dream Lord came back.
The little faerie, which looks horrendously dull and ugly without glamour, thought Lucien most unkindly, was huddled up on one of the higher tables. An umbrella was opened over her head and her expression was one of pure horror as she stared at the water lapping hungrily around the table legs. Matthew was perched high upon a stack of books that Lucien had placed neatly on the table, and which he originally intended to peruse to his heart's satisfaction while sipping tea and enjoying a moment of peace.
Originally being the keyword.
Cain and Abel, the two brothers who somehow chose that unfortunate day to drop by, were both squashed in an enormous plastic bathtub that Lucien had somehow managed to conjure out of midair. They floated past, Cain raising his balled fist to thrash the living daylights out of Abel, and Abel shrieking loudly and frantically trying to lean back to avoid the blow... It was obvious what would happen.
Splllooosh.
It was quite a soft splash, for one such as big-sized as Abel, Lucien reflected tiredly as he rubbed his forehead with a weary hand. Mervyn puffed on a cigar, smoke floating out of his eyes as he held a mop loosely. Judging by the severity of this particular flood, even Mervyn's mops won't help. Both he and Mervyn were knee-high in floodwater, them being on higher staircases than the rest.
"Hey Loosh..."
"Yes? Wait," Lucien said, raising up a warning hand before Mervyn could continue. "I must warn you, if you try to irritate me even more with inane chatter... I will be forced to deal with you severely if you decide to foist some stupid, useless idea on me. Do you follow me, Mervyn Pumpkin Head?"
"I lost y' 'bout two miles back, Loosh," Mervyn drawled as he leaned against the mop. "An' what I'm goin' to suggest ain't inane chatter, its sensible chatter."
"Your definition of sensible seems to be tampered with, as observed with your daily run-ins with the Dream Lord when he was here."
"Aw, Loosh." Mervyn winced slightly. "It ain't my fault he popped out of nowhere!"
"Well, you should not have even spoken ill of -"
"Fine, fine! I'm in the wrong!" Mervyn held up a hand hastily before Lucien can go into a tirade. And he could tell that Loosh seriously wanted to let off some pissed-offness now on the first living, talking, and sentient creature near him. "What I'm tryin' ta say 'ere, is dat maybe we can take a break! I mean, this dream flood, it's gonna disappear in a few more hours an' well... They're still goin' ta be comin' back, so y' might as well grab a bit o' books an' we can all hurry out to Fiddler's Green..."
"If, it is still standing." Lucien finished the sentence dryly. He attempted to straighten his sodden clothing, found it immensely uncomfortable when he did that and sighed. He peered at Mervyn owlishly over his glasses as he remarked dryly, "As a matter of fact, I was planning to clear this place up a little bit then head off to Cain and Abel's houses with some books. We can listen to stories there."
"Loosh, your little bit o' clearin' up takes us two hours or more."
"Well..."
"That's quite true, Lucien." With a caw and a flutter of dark wings, Matthew joined in the conversation, dark eyes glinting evilly. "Little bit of cleaning up, eh? I reckon your real bit of cleaning up takes more than a week! Take a break, Lucien. The books won't fly away, the enchantments are still there, even thought they're a mite weakened. The Dream Lord's power still holds, and the flood will drain in a few more hours. Let's just go."
"Yah, he's right." Mervyn hastily added his own two cents when he spotted Lucien looking thoughtful. "Let's get Cain an' Abel out o' the bathtub, an' bring Nuala with us. Eve can also drop by, an' we'll have tea."
"Snug and cosy..." Matthew cawed cheerily as he perched on Lucien's shoulder. "You can also read some books while at their house… Aw, just relax fer a while, Lucien. Don't need ta be so uptight all the time, right?" Sensing Lucien was about to muster up another glare and stop thinking about plans to leave the flooded library, Matthew hastily ploughed on. Though ploughed on might not be such a word…
Really, Lucien does need to be handled with furry kid gloves when the matter in particular is about his little library. Or when the matter is about his uptightness, which Matthew personally thought would be a matter a few heavy drinks that was procured from London wouldn't cure. "Aw, Lucien, you know that what I said was true… Relax. I mean, you are entitled to leave, right? Union rights or whatever…"
"There are no unions in the Dreaming."
"I was making a point."
"LUCIEN! IF YOU ARE DONE TALKING TO THAT CROW UP THERE, CAN WE LEAVE?"
"Uh, uh, y-y-y-you're al w-w-w-welcome to our h-h-h-house, o-o-"
THUMP.
Sppllloosh.
"Who said you could speak?"
"Cain."
"I. Am not a crow."
"Big, smelly, black featherbags with great big beaks are crows. And no need to take that prissy tone with me, Lucien."
"Cain, you really have no need to throw Abel over the side!"
"Nuh-nuh-nuhver mind, L-l-l-l-l-lucien-"
"Umm… If you don't mind… I'd rather leave this library with the flood… Um."
"See!! Nuala thinks so too!"
A heavy sigh, as Lucien stared gloomily at the excited Matthew, torn between cleaning up his beloved library or hurrying off to the Houses for a bit of story-telling. "Oh… Well, I don't really know…" Abel's fingers were latched tightly on the plastic tub's edges. Surprisingly, Cain was making no effort to push Abel off the tub again. He turned his head up towards Lucien, a most acrobatic feat in his situation.
"L-l-let's g-g-g-go, Lucien. I-i-it's not n-n-nice here."
"Oho, so it's comfort you're thinking of, my dear brother, not surprising…" Cain drew his lips up into a sneer as he glared at the trembling Abel. Matthew shot him a look, and cawed loudly as he spread his wings, preparing to take flight. "Cahahaha, and you're comfy here yourself, aren't you, Cain?"
"You impertinent-"
"Oh, shuttit. Loosh. Y'goin'?"
"Lucien, I think, um, it's better to leave now… It's wet and uncomfy, um, I agree with Abel…"
"Well?" Cain crossed his lanky legs in the tub, glaring up at Lucien through his glasses. "I really don't want to stay here all day long. My dear brother, as you can see-" and here he gestured to the sodden Abel "-is clearly uncomfortable in his current situation. I'd rather be in a nice, dry place."
"Well, DUH!"
"…Keep your great beak shut, you crow."
"Crows are dirty gossips! I'm a raven!"
"Makes no difference."
"There IS."
"Um, don't you think it's a little nasty to make so many people wet when they, well, persuade you to leave your library, well, um… Um." Nuala bit her fingernail nervously as she turned her gaze away from Lucien. "It was just an opinion." She mumbled softly.
"Exactly, Lucien. I agree with the faerie."
"L-l-l-lucien? I t-t-t-think you'd b-b-b-better go to our h-h-h-house. G-g-g-goldie haven't s-s-s-seen you for a v-v-v-very l-long time."
There were several soft splashes as Lucien made his nervous, wincing way down the winding steps towards the little side-door that didn't appear till a few moments ago. He scurried towards the door, wincing with every soft splash that his –nice, beautiful shoes- footwear made. Sighing slightly, he produced a key from his waistcoat. Mervyn paused. Then stared at Lucien. Finally he murmered, "Gawds, Lucien, what more tricks do you have up those swanky sleeves of yers, eh?"
"Plenty, I suspect." Cain remarked dryly as he stepped out of the tub and was promptly soaked in water to his waist. "Holy-" As he cursed and stumbled towards Lucien, Abel made his way slowly over to Nuala's table and gently helped her down, where she met the water with a sad, "My clothes." Abel tried to comfort her with nervous pats on the back, "Muh-muh clothes are a-a-a-also very w-w-w-wet."
"You're so sweet." Nuala mumbled, smiling briefly. A crimson blush suffused Abel's face as both made their slow way towards the little opening. Matthew, as always, shot out of the window in a puff of black feathers, with Cain's cursing chasing him all the way to the two Houses, while Mervyn simply shrugged and splashed his way towards the opening without wincing or groaning. "Well, I am a scarecrow, anyways." He drawled in response to Lucien's inquiring gaze.
"You still haven't chased off that bloody crow yet," Cain cut in sourly.
"…Mattie's a special case."
"Oh, look, those two ingrates are here."
"W-w-w-we are n-n-not ingrates."
"Oh, Cain."
"What? I'd only stated the truth! And a hint, dear brother, if you ever feel the need to stand up for yourself someday, ease up on the stuttering. It just isn't so manly, which you certainly don't want your Nuala to think so, right?"
"I am not his Nuala. You're being nasty."
"Nastiness is a absolute certainity in my character."
"Cain."
"Lucien."
"…The two of ya sound like lovebirds callin' each other names."
"Bloody Pumpkin Head. Careful I don't squish you up someday."
"Mervyn, I have never, in my life tried to, ah, make a pass, at Cain. Indeed, I would most certainly and firmly advise anyone who is endeavouring to try that out to cease, halt and desist immediately, in order to preserve their bodily functions and to minimise the chance of losing certain parts of their anatomy."
"Awful posh."
"…I don't want you to make a pass at me. You're ruining my dating reputation."
"Y-y-y-you never h-h-had dates in the f-f-f-first place."
"YOU-"
"Cain. No."
"Aw, two lovey birdys!"
"…"
"The skewering can start at my house."
"I agree, in the meantime, we can make headway to your house."
Somehow, I think a relationship between Cain and Lucien is so scary... But so LOL. Press the pretty review button please!!